Mul Gladiator from the Dying World of Athas


Zefram is a Mul, a half-dwarf, stocky, hairless, with the distinctive slave tattoos of the city-state of Urik. He is a trained Battlemind of the Iron Guardian Paragon Path.


Zefram was born a slave in the city-state of Urik. After a childhood of
physical labor, his burgeoning psionic power resulted in conscription
into Urik’s slave-legion. In the legion, Zefram found something he had
never had before… a sense of community, of belonging. He was still a
slave, but now he fought beside his fellow legionnaires for a common
purpose. He found fulfillment in group tactics. He became part of the
wall that would stop the enemy charge such that his fellows could
retailiate, quick and nimble. He had comrades, friends and lovers in
the legion, but none were closer to him than the albino human telepath
named Alabaster. They worked as a potent team. He held the weapons at
bay while she turned the minds of the foes of King Hamanu against
them. His stolid commitment to his companions coupled with her “inside
knowledge” of the thoughts of others kept them from falling afoul of
the sometimes vicious internal politics of the legion that would see
some promoted to officer-status (and freedom) while others languished
on the front lines until they died. As a team, they rose through the
ranks. Sadly, after one particularly glorious victory against an
exploratory army from Tyr, only one officer position opened up.
Alabaster sold Zefram down the river faster than he could have ever
thought possible. Perhaps it was guilt, or perhaps merely pragmatic
necessity, but she arranged his transfer out of the legion into the
gladiatorial arena of Urik where he would never be in a position to
stab her in the back. He fought in the arena for more than a year,
finding it not all that difficult to survive. His genuine military
training helped, as did his stolid demeanor. He even managed a modicum
of fame, becoming the “favorite” of Urik’s noble House Moroch. It was
from the barracks of the gladiators that he was plucked, finding
himself suddenly in a new realm.

A sense of order, of espri de corps, strongly motivates Zefram. He was
never happier than when he was in the Slave Legion marching alongside
his cadre. Sure, he knew many of them might die at any moment, but
until that time came, they were brothers and sisters in arms. When he
became a gladiator he tried to develop the same sense with his fellow
gladiators, although that was hard considering most of them would
regularly fight each other in the arena. Even so, with those
gladiators for whom the arena was nothing personal, he was able to
forge some bonds of fellowship where a defeat in the arena did not
necessarily spell the end of friendship. He’s a stolid, practical
sort. He adapts and adjusts to his situation. He has never been in
control of his fate, so he has long since just learned to accept
whatever happens to him. So long as he can build some sort of
community, he’s happy.


Little Tower on the Far Realm ardhanari